Perhaps if she had been more stable of mind, Janus would have been alarmed by the amount of bloodthirst that she felt, the eagerness to inflict pain upon this young, four-winged creature. She had been raised a calm, gentle mare by Riveth's hands, taught to respect honor and shed kindness, but now... Now, she was a shadow of her former self. A wandering, bitter, troubled soul, lost without purpose. The Grey had given her purpose, however, a reason to continue the fight, and she showed her bitterness in the only way that she knew how; in violence.

Ice-blue orbs remained locked on Azale's form, watching as the pale youth returned her charge. Janus smirked, the corners of her lips upturning in true amusement. 'She has spunk...' Perhaps if it was not the battlefield in which they had met, the Andalusian mare would have been compelled to get to know this pale child. It was a compliment, for although Janus thought that she saw fear in the four-winged one's gaze, she saw determination. A drive to protect a herd, a family, a home. Such a look had probably in Janus' own eyes, back when she was defending Vallhea... But what a false defense that had been.

They were similar, Janus realized with a start. She and this young warrior. They fought for love, for family... Except Janus had nothing more to fight for. A soldier without an army, a child without a guide... A wandering renegade, nothing more. Bitterness renewed within her, coating her mind like an iron veil, protecting her against such petty emotions.

Janus was uncertain what attempt that Azale was trying to do with her charge, perhaps try and crowd her as she had wanted to do to Azale, but no, that wouldn't work. A seasoned veteran she was, and she would not fall for such childish ire. A feeling of annoyance trickled within the warrior's breast that she had missed her intended target, but it dispelled a moment later as her jaw clamped down firmly upon Azale's left side. Flesh pinched between her teeth, the taste of hide and sweat disgusting upon her tongue, but Janus couldn't dwell on it for too long.

Azale was moving, pushing herself up onto her hindquarters, forelegs and wings buffeting at the air in an attempt to strike out, hooves glinting in the moonlight like deadly daggers. Bracing her muscles, Janus turned more towards her left so that she hoped she was facing Azale, tucking her head close to her pale bosom to protect it. Such an act, however, left her neck and shoulders open for attack, but that was a risk that Janus knew she had to take. The pale mare grit her teeth as she took a blow to the left side of her shoulder from one of Azale's flailing hooves, ice-blue eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. It stung, burned almost, surely cutting through hide and skin, perhaps drawing blood...

Hoping that she was spotting an opening, however, the Andalusian warrior dipped her left shoulder downwards to prepare for her next attack. The muscles in her shoulder and neck gave a terrible pull of protest, and her back legs bunched beneath her to push her forwards, and hopefully into Azale's rearing frame. Janus attempted to aim for Azale's exposed barrel from her rear into the sky, and then pushed forward on an exhale of breath, hooves digging deep into the ground for purchase. She hoped that she could collide with the rearing Pegasus with her injured shoulder and thus, knock her down. Or, at the very least, confuse and wind her.

[Wordcount: 597.
Attacks: 2/4
Summary: When Azale rears into the air, Janus turns slightly to the left to try and make them face to face. She tucks her head safely to her chest, then takes a blow to her left shoulder from Azale's hooves. Then, she attempts to charge forward and into Azale, to either knock her down or disorient her.]